


An Itch to Bite

by Piarelei



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A pinch of Angst for health, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood and Smut, I'm so glad to be writing this, M/M, Smut, Vampire Eren Yeager, Vampire Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Witch Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Witch Levi is my favorite tag ever, probably fluff too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-12-26 06:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18278150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piarelei/pseuds/Piarelei
Summary: Eren Jäger reappears centuries after his disappearance.Levi never expects him to enter his little shop, cold skin glowing with the warm light of candles and bright eyes pining him on the spot, more alert than he remembers them. From the sudden surprise he sees in them, Eren did not expect it either.For a second, Levi wonders if he should talk, wonders if he should pretend to not recognize him, wonders if he should hug him."Levi."Wonders if he should kiss him silent. Wonders if he should tear him to pieces.Eren is still beautiful; just like the first time the raven saw him, just like the last, too. And Levi cannot keep the memories away as he stands here, and they come back in a wave, engulfing him in a burning sea of regrets. Here is the mouth he kissed hundreds of time, there is the soft strand of hair he used to tuck behind his ear, the cheeks he stroked for years, the hands he caressed with reverence, the throat he sunk his fangs to, time and time again.





	1. Misery

**Author's Note:**

> Alright folks, here you go with this story that has been gnawing a way out of me for months and that I couldn't refrain from writing. Witch!Levi is a gift from heaven and I love him like my own arm (which means a lot, arms are so fucking underrated).
> 
> In this story: blood and smut mingle (I mean, you saw the _vampiro_ tag), not in a very gory way, but still, you are warned. It is your responsibility as a reader to decide if you're okay with it or not. 
> 
> Cripes (as Victor Baynes would say), I love writing this story. I hope you like it just a tenth of how much I enjoy it, it would already be a lot. Have a good read!

_The night is strangely still_ , Levi thinks as he glances at the street through his window. For the first time in months, no one showed up on his doormat minutes before the opening of his office; from the moment he got out of the shower to open all the curtains to the first cup of lukewarm blood he is currently sipping on, he has been alone.  
  
He frowns.  
  
It is strange. Levi has built a solid reputation as an efficient warlock and is hardly ever left with time for himself — not that he really minds, keeping busy prevents him from thinking too much.  
  
But the night is so eerily silent, it almost makes him want to do a reading of his blood, to see what the magic in the carmine could tell him.  
  
Minutes tick by, and not a sound comes from the outside; not the wind, not the barking of the neighbor's annoying dog, not the echos of steps on the cobbled street. Levi knows it, great lengths of silence are always omens, the World too busy building twists of fate to remember the buzzing background of life.  
  
_Bad or good omen, only time will tell!_ Petra's voice sings in his head.  
  
He only hopes to not be the target of its consequences.  
  
Levi empties his cup in a swift movement and it soothes the itch at the back of his throat. He then gets to clean it properly, with scalding water and aggressive soap, trying to keep his mind exclusively focused on his task and not on the sudden unsettling stillness of his neighborhood.  
  
However, the relief of clean dishware is short lived, as Levi is left unoccupied and listens to the absolute nothingness that surrounds him. It is unusual and the warlock cannot help but get twitchy, his fingers drum a regular rhythm on the countertop just to have noise fill his head, and strange shivers prickle at the back of his neck.  
  
After too many seconds of calm and quiet, he shakes his head to get ride of his restlessness, and decides to check his home for any other omen, in the absence of anything better to do. He strides from the kitchen to the living room, stares at the mirror here for any crack or distortion in his reflection, confirms that the unlit logs in the fireplace are neatly stacked and pets his cats that are lounging on his couch, just to feel the vibrations of their purrs on his palms. It calms down his agitated mind.  
  
Before going to his bathroom to inspect the mirrors and faucets, Levi lights up two dozens candles to give a warmer glow to the room; the moonlight seems awfully crude tonight, giving sharp angles to unsuspecting objects and a graying tone to the cream walls.  
  
No drop falls on the ceramic of his washbasin, and all of the mirrors in his house reflect the same frowning warlock without any visible distinction.  
  
There is no sign to tell him if he is about to face misery or good luck. Because, he cannot deny it anymore, he is certain the silence is for him. The stillness lasts too long to be for a simple unsuspecting human; the neighborhood has been quiet for more than ten minutes now, and the Universe is not known for wasting any moment; this much time can only be taken for twisting the destiny of an almost thousand-years-old being. A vampire practicing witchcraft for instance.  
  
Levi sighs.  
  
Maybe a reading would not be such a bad idea right now. His life is about to take a turn – for the worst or the better, no one can say at this point – and a hint of what is awaiting him would not do any harm.  
  
He goes to his workshop, where all sort of spices and herbs line the walls on high shelves — too high for Levi to reach alone, so a stool stands in a corner of the room — and seizes a clay bowl. Levi takes a second to examine the bubbling mixture in the cauldron in the room’s fireplace, and hums softly when he sees that the tension in the air does not affect the preparation of his enchantment.  
As he goes back to his kitchen to pour milk in the recipient, he finally hears the first sounds of the last ten minutes. The raven tenses and listens carefully to the regular steps, soft and unhurried, becoming louder as seconds tick by. At the unmistakable creaking of the first step leading to his door, the vampire sighs, tries to relax his shoulders. He turns to the sink to throw the untouched milk away and carefully rinses his ritual bowl with lukewarm water.  
  
The doorbell chimes and with that sound, the World starts to turn again. The buzz of conversations from the apartment building across the street reaches Levi, and the next door dog whimpers at the rustling leaves. The stranger — Misery or Good Luck — is in the entrance hall that Levi transformed in a waiting room, with two chairs that do not creak when they are being used, but he can _still_ tell that no one is sitting at the moment.  
  
"Come in," he shouts as he dries his ritual bowl with a clean towel.  
  
The steps take up again and the almost silent wince of the door being opened is clear and loud in the warlock's ears. He tries to ease the tension of his body with a roll of his shoulders and puts down his sacred recipient as _Someone_ clears his throat in the other room.  
  
Levi turns around and walks to the living room with his less unfriendly expression; he is facing Destiny here, if he interpreted the omen correctly.  
  
His face falls the second he stands in front of Fate.  
  
Eren Jäger is here, reappearing centuries after his disappearance.  
  
Levi never expected him to enter his little shop, cold skin glowing with the warm light of candles and bright eyes pining him on the spot, more alert than he remembers them. From the sudden surprise he sees in them, Eren did not expect it either.  
  
For a second, Levi wonders if he should talk, wonders if he should pretend to not recognize him, wonders if he should hug him.  
  
"Levi."  
  
Wonders if he should kiss him silent. Wonders if he should tear him to pieces.  
  
Eren is still beautiful; just like the first time the raven saw him, just like the last, too. And Levi cannot keep the memories away as he stands here, and they come back in a wave, engulfing him in a burning sea of regrets. Here is the mouth he kissed hundreds of time, there is the soft strand of hair he used to tuck behind his ear, the cheeks he stroked for years, the hands he caressed with reverence, the throat he sunk his fangs to, time and time again.  
  
He sees Eren in red, carmine blood on his sun-kissed skin, entangled in deathly-still limbs and ribbons of soaked silks and sophisticated lace. He sees Eren, grinning at him, drunk on pleasure and so genuinely glad to see him. He sees Eren, pressing his fangs to Levi's legs, laughing when crimson trickles on his alabaster skin before lapping at it in a silent sorry.  
  
He sees all sort of Erens. But he does not recognize the one standing before him. This Eren is a stranger, one he has no right to touch and his fingertips burn with expectancy.  
  
"Eren," he finally says, and Levi realizes that his fangs are elongated by desire — the prospect of sex and blood and Eren, just like always, just like _before_ — pressing on his lower lip, making his speech slurred and muted. And he hates himself for feeling overwhelmed by lust at the sight of the brunet alone.  
  
He takes a few seconds to draw them back and he wets his lips to put up a front; he knows Eren saw it, but it does not mean that he will not try to keep his dignity untouched.  
  
"I never thought I would see you again." The words are bitter and his mouth feels full of sand, but the memory of Eren has felt this way for most of the past three centuries, so it does not even surprise him.  
  
The brunet clears his throat and his eyes seem to tingle with an emotion which comes and goes too fast for Levi to identify it. He lowers his head and scratches at his nape in a motion the raven knows all too well, as he saw it hundreds and thousands times, whenever Eren felt embarrassment burning at his chest. Seeing it after all this time, still understanding the younger man's body language, leaves a cold weight pressing at the pit of his stomach; it slithers up his throat and clenches; breathing seems more difficult now, and suddenly Levi remembers that he does not need to breathe, so he stops, lungs full.  
  
"Yeah... I..." The brunet tries, but the words wither on his tongue, heavy and sickening. He does not have any excuse to give, they both know it. Nothing can justify how one's lover could walk away without a word after a century together.  
  
So Levi does not expect an answer to the centuries of questions that swim in his head.  
  
"What do you want from me?" He asks instead.  
  
He does not want to acknowledge the relief to see Eren, alive and well, that swims in his chest, and the longer the brunet stays here, in the middle of his living room, the longer he has to painfully shove it away.  
  
He sees Eren gulp, loves the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down, and hates himself for it.  
  
"I... I'm here with my friend, he's parking the car right now. We... We came to see the witch."  
  
Levi wants to roll his eyes skyward – of course, everyone comes here to see the witch – but does not want his face to express anything; he cannot show any emotion to Eren, not anymore.  
  
"I would never have guessed," he drawls sarcastically. "What do you want from me?"  
  
There is a beat of silence where Eren's eyes widen with surprise and Levi looks away to not fall in their brightness.  
  
"You're the witch?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But... You're a vampire."  
  
"And a warlock."  
  
Levi feels it coming, the need for explanation, Eren's refusal to leave anything unanswered and his unquenchable curiosity. He is familiar with it — painfully so, but that does not mean that he wants to see it tonight.  
  
The words are about to spill out of the brunet's mouth when the doorbell chimes and a timid "hello" comes from the waiting room. Levi seizes the opportunity and crosses the room with a graceful leap before Eren can utter a syllable, pushing the door open with a little more strength than necessary, startling the new-comer.  
  
Levi does not say anything when their gazes meet, he straightens his back and assesses the human.  
  
The young man standing in the middle of the room is taller than he is, but really, everybody has been for the past three centuries. His blond hair is neatly tucked behind his ears and a pair of curious eyes stare at the raven with great interest, taking the time to register the frown and unfriendly expression before lighting up with a flicker of apprehension.  
  
"Um... Hello, I'm Armin Arlert, my friend is... He's supposed to be here, but..."  
  
"Eren is already here," Levi cuts him off, his tense nerves ready to snap at the first annoyance, and the blond's hesitating speech was not helping. "Come in, let's get this over with."  
  
He seems to think for a second, and it is the last thing Levi needs right now; he does not want to lose time thinking. He wants to forget that Eren exists and see him out of his house in a close future.  
  
"Alright," the man finally answers quietly, rushing in as Levi keeps the door open for him.  
  
The raven closes the door behind them and draws a curtain to hide it, the one he cast a privacy spell one to keep all of his clients' stories here, trapped in his living room.  
  
When he turns back, two pairs of eyes blink at him owlishly; they are standing with fidgeting hands, unsure of what to do. Levi cannot keep in the long sigh that pierce the silence and gesture to the seats in front of the earth with a hand.  
  
"Sit down wherever you want," he tells them before going back to the kitchen.  
  
Levi takes his time to brew a pot of calming tea and prepare a mug of blood for Eren — he has A+ blood in his fridge, the brunet's favorite, but he stubbornly refuses to give in to the cruel voice in his head and spoil the kid, so B- it is.  
  
When he comes back with the tray of drinks, his cats have moved to the window sill, the men are seated side by side on the loveseat in front of the earth and the warlock cannot help a twinge of jealousy at the back of his throat. He swallows it down while gingerly placing the cup in front of the blond human and hold out the mug for the vampire. He sees Eren's nostrils twitch at the scent, but he does not make a move to take it from his hands. Levi puts it on the table with a stern glare, _drink it,_ before turning back and settling in his usual chair on the side, large and broken in from the years he spent seating there, listening to creatures and people's problems. The leather barely moans when he crosses his legs; the warlock exhales and his eyes flutter close for a second.  
  
He carefully takes the atmosphere in, as he always does at the beginning of his consultation. He hears the single breath in the room — Armin's — shallow and anxious, feels the warmth of Eren's inherent magic, timid and pulsing under his skin, smells the wonderful aroma of human blood wrapping up around them and the scent of a much too familiar vampire that makes his mouth waters for other reasons.

His eyes snap open and Levi runs his hand through his hair without throwing a glance in his guests' direction.

  
He clears his throat and wets his lips.  
  
"So, what is the issue?"  
  
Levi hopes that he is not about to hear some couple bullshit because he is not sure he could stand it, not with strangers, but even less with Eren. He does not believe that Armin is the vampire’s lover, he would smell it if it were the case. 

Of course it does not mean that Eren is alone. Maybe he has never been, and maybe that is why he left. He found a lover.  
  
Thinking of Eren with someone else makes his hands itch with the need to tear apart and destroy; Levi knows he has no right to such possessive behavior, but he gave everything he had to the brunet, and his body cannot forget it. Even with the gaping wound carved in by feelings of betrayal, Levi wants the vampire, has wanted him since the moment he left his side. He hates himself for it. He went through so much anger, so much fury, so much sorrow to have found the bed empty when he woke up this one evening. But it is ingrained in his flesh, he felt it went he loved Eren for the first time, and still feels it now, the rightness, the burning desire truer than anything.  
  
Levi did not forget, even if he had tried, night after night, scream after scream. The last centuries were long and painful, but at the moment Eren stepped back into his life, it felt like his whole word stopped rocking and found balance. He is angry. He is furious. But mostly, he is relieved to see him again.  
  
The vampire lifts his gaze to the forest that rests in the brunet's eyes and waits for an answer.  
  
"He smells weird," finally reveals the vampire, and Levi relaxes his stance, opening the hands that clenched into fists. Eren’s voice his warm now that the surprise has dissolved itself in the air and it makes a bit of tension unfurls in his chest.  
  
As much as he loves it, he tries to push the sensation down.  
  
The vampire glances to the blond, who is now nursing his cup of tea, a leg nervously tapping at the wood floor. He takes a profound inspiration and examine the human's scent; it smells fresh and warm, like a meadow in the early hours of morning, but weirdly, not mouthwatering.  
  
Levi arches an eyebrow and turns back to Eren, careful to look anywhere but in his eyes. "What does weird mean?"  
  
"Unusual. He..." Eren's tongue darts out to moisten his lips and Levi's gut clenches; to avoid such tempting occurrence, he turns to Armin, who has finally worked the courage to meet his gaze. Curious eyes watch his every movements, before observing his friend's profile, and for a second, Levi wonders if Eren is acting differently from Armin's usual with him in the room. The thought of having any effect on the younger vampire awakens a weird satisfaction at the pit of his stomach.  
  
"He doesn't smell like..." Levi gives his attention back to the brunet with a tilt of the head, and sees him struggling with the words he is trying to say. "He doesn't smell like a potential prey."  
  
I don't want to sink my fangs in his throat, Levi hears behind it.  
  
The warlock hums thoughtfully. Then, clears his throat when he catches himself starring at Eren’s mouth, moist and beautifully outlined by the fire glow. He turns back to his patient.  
  
Humans are more or less appetizing to vampires, depending on age, health, corporal hygiene and personal taste. But Armin smells bland; he still has a distinctive scent — of spring and renewal, but do not trigger any desire at the back of Levi's throat.  
  
"Why are you worried then?"  
  
"It's probably nothing," Armin says for the first time, with a voice that sounds too soft for the conversation. "Eren is worried it could be a curse from one of my colleagues, because I got promoted."  
  
Levi arches an eyebrow. "Trust me, a curse wouldn't do something as nice as keeping the predators at bay. Even as a side-effect."  
  
He sighs and uncrosses his legs to stand up. "But it won’t hurt to check. I'll have to draw a bit of your blood to make my diagnosis, is that okay with you?"  
  
Armin glances at Eren before nodding, teeth trapping his lower lips.  
  
"And you," he points to Eren. "You either down this cup or get out. I don't want to deal with a bloodlust."  
  
Eren's mouth opens to say something, but Levi is already walking to his workshop with supernatural speed. He gathers a needle, medical alcohol and gauze on a tray and throws a glance at his cauldron to see the potion thickening satisfyingly. The warlock makes a stop in his bathroom to wash his hands thoroughly before going back to the living room, tray in hand.  
  
Eren's cup is empty and a bit of red stains the corner of his frowning mouth.  
  
Levi wants to lean in and lick it clean; instead, he turns to Armin and gesture for him to settle further in the cushions. The vampire sits on the coffee table in front of the blond, and leaves the tray at his side.  
  
"Give me you hand," he instructs and Armin cautiously extend his arm, eyes wide and watchful.  
  
Levi douses the needle in alcohol and unwrap the gauze. He raises his gaze to Armin for confirmation, and when the blond nods, he pricks at the skin of a fingertip in a swift movement.  
  
The smell is awful and both vampires hiss and recoil at the same time. Before Levi totally understands it, he is standing on the other side of the coffee table, almost snarling at the startled young man on his loveseat. He realizes that his fangs are showing when Armin eyes fall on them and the man jerks further away from him.  
  
The raven turns to the fireplace to hide his mouth while he draw back his fangs. It is not easy feat; he cannot breathe in to calm down, and the rapid glimpse of Eren’s aggressive face – all fangs and sneer – has his blood rushing at tremendous speed.  
  
When it is done, the man takes a careful sniff of the air; the smell is still here, pungent and aggressive, but tolerable if he does not inhale too deep. "Ah, shit," Levi says eloquently. He spins around and sees with relief that the blond is pressing the gauze to his wound, stopping more blood from seeping.  
  
The human's face is tense and his eyes are wary, but Levi does not linger on his features for more than a few seconds before sighing heavily. Eren stands at the end of the couch, arms folded and lips pinched together as he seems to be holding his breath.  
  
"Well, at least now, I know what happened to you."  
  
Armin visibly tries to relax, he flattens his hands on his thighs and clears his throat. He does not seem to want to talk about the raven’s vampirism and simply awaits the news. When Levi is sure that he can talk without startling him, he simply states, "You've been marked by a werewolf."  
  
The blond glances at Eren with uncertainty painted on his face.  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
Levi represses the groan that wants to climb up his throat and slides gracefully into his chair.   
  
"You had unprotected sex with a werewolf and he left his mark on you," the vampire explains with blatant disinterest. "Or in you, I should say," he adds blankly.  
  
Watching Armin blooming poppy red and sputtering to find something to say is almost as amusing as Eren's utterly shocked face.  
  
"Armin. Dear God, tell me you didn't... God, but he's such an ass."

The blond hides his face in his hands and tries to curl up to disappear in the cushions. Eren is rigid, eyebrows pinched as he look at his friend.  
  
"Is there any consequences to the... marking?" The human finally asks after a few too many beats of silence.  
  
Levi shrugs.  
  
"Not really. Supernatural beings sense that you're untouchable. It's a protective charm of some sort."  
  
He nods behind the cage of his fingers.  
  
"Is it possible to erase it?" Inquires Eren, turning sharply to the older vampire.  
  
"Yes, but painful," he answers. "If you buy condoms and let it be, it'll be gone in a month or so," he adds for Armin.  
  
Another mortified nod answers him and Levi understands that his work here is done.  
  
After a minute of additional embarrassed self-loathing from the blond, Levi rises to his feet and catches Eren's gaze. The brunet seems at loss for words, baffled by the revelation; and for a short moment, it feels like he is seeking the older vampire for guidance.  
  
The raven's throat feels tight again; this looks is so familiar, dancing at the front of his mind from centuries-old memories, and it brings back a flood of unwanted emotions.  
  
Levi averts his eyes and clears his throat to get the blond's attention.  
  
"It'll be fourty bucks."  
  
The human looks up from his hands, face worryingly carmine, and takes a few seconds to process what Levi said. Under the vampire's stern eyes, he stands up, fumbles with the pockets of his jacket and pulls his wallet out. He hands the money to the witch with shaky fingers. The warlock takes the gingerly folded bills and nods to thank him.  
  
But Armin does not make a move to leave the witch's den. After a stare too long for it to be comfortable, the raven sighs.  
  
"The door is this way," he informs while pointing over his shoulder.  
  
The human takes a deeper shade of red and suddenly sets into motion, striding to the door with half-assured steps.  
  
Armin briefly looks at Eren to make him follow, and to Levi's relief, the brunet walks to his friend. But, as Armin pushes the handle, the vampire turns to the warlock and it is so sudden that he does not have the time to hide from the teal brightness and ends up trapped by his eyes.  
  
"It's good to see you, Levi."  
  
And they are gone, steps hitting the cobbled street.  
  
Levi feels anger bloom in his chest, and the frustration of his unanswered questions rises on his shoulders. His fangs press on his lower lip and he wants — he needs — to ripe the world apart.  
  
Eren is his Misery.  
  
Levi wants to strip him of his freedom, lock him in his basement and, punish him, hurt him deep, fuck him into oblivion, tear him to pieces. Levi does not understand why he was abandoned, why Eren comes back into his life now, why he could not do anything when he saw him, why he still his overwhelmed whenever the vampire looks his way, why he never stopped to miss him and why he feels so relieved to have stood in front of him again.  
  
He smells his blood before feeling the pain of his teeth sinking in the tender flesh of his mouth, and the sensation grounds him, takes him away from the fury bubbling in his heart.  
  
Physical pain is better than centuries of festering grievance, better than the bitterness that spreads from his sternum to his fingertips.  
  
So Levi does the only logical thing and decides to seek it. He calls Hanji.


	2. Ace of Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Germany was a country of large forests and fresh air. Eren does not remember it quite clearly, but maybe he would have liked to keep the memories and stay away from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love Arminminminminminminminmin.

Germany is supposed to be his home but everything feels foreign around him. His home, as he remembers it, is a land of tall trees and cold winters, not friable skyscrapers and blinding advertisements in neon lights.   
  
The taxi glides on asphalt as the driver tries to chat in a German that sounds like another language to Eren's ears. He hums here and there, before admitting that he does not understand more than a word or two; the man tries again in broken English before giving up at the lack of response.   
  
Eren is not feeling loquacious today — has not been for a while now. So he wraps his arms around himself and settles further in the backseat of the car, gazing at the fluorescent facades of the buildings of his new country of residence.   
  
He does not really understand what pushed him to accept Armin's proposition to come work with him in Germany — the blond was working on a substitute for human blood in Great Britain, but had to move to form another team overseas.   
  
He asked his personal taste tester to accompany him.  
  
Eren said no twenty-three times. But with a sheer amount of efforts, Armin succeeded at coaxing him out of his house, with the promise of a better weather than rainy England. And maybe an improvement of the somber mood he has been drowning in for years.   
  
So the vampire packed a bag with his few important belongings and clothes and took a plane to Berlin.   
  
He is now on his way to his new apartment, in the outskirts of the capital, where his researcher of a friend is waiting for him.   
  
The journey is long and for a second, Eren worries that he will not be able to settle in before dawn, but then the taxi leaves the highway and zigzags between towers of concretes barely leaving space for the stars to shine.   
  
The vampire winces, his surroundings are not up to his neighborhood ideals; he sees the apartments stacked together and knows that the proximity makes everything noisy.   
  
It is going to change him from his lonely castle in England.   
  
Why in the world did Armin think that it was going to be a good idea?  
  
The taxi leaves him in front of another anonymous building and Eren cannot help but sigh at the idea of his near future. Bag slung over his shoulder, he dials Armin and begins to walk toward the entrance.   
  
The blond seems overjoyed on the other end of the phone as he informs Eren of the apartment number and opens the gate for him through the intercom. The vampire takes the elevator while holding his breath and knocks on what he believes is now the door to his new home.   
  
Armin looks as elated to see him as he sounded. The twenty-seven-years-old welcomes the vampire with a hug and a pat on the back and Eren feels a little bit less disheartened at the prospect of his life here.   
  
"It's good to have you here!" The human says while closing the door behind them. "I know that it's small in here, but don't forget that it's just temporary. Just the time to find you something better."  
  
Eren hums and takes a moment to look around.   
  
The apartment is indeed small. The kitchen is painted in vibrant shades of blue and overlooks an equally cerulean living room. The TV is on and a nest of blankets is formed on the couch, where Armin supposedly waited for his much-older friend. It is not much, but it is clean and smells fresh, and Eren finds that he can hardly complain.   
  
"It's great, Armin," he compliments with a smile pulling at his lips.   
  
It must look a little forced because the blond gently grabs his sleeve with a little smile on his own and pulls him in the hallway. "You're room is here." He opens a door and let the vampire first in. "I had it sun-proofed and the real estate agent told me that the window is anti-UV."  
  
Eren snorts at that; anti-UV glass is as good as water against the sun — there is no cheating against daylight, but it is endearing to see humans try to accommodate vampires.   
  
The room is simple, with a bed pushed against the far wall, a bedside table and a closet, but it leaves plenty of room for Eren to set an easel and his painting tools.   
  
"Thank you, Armin."  
  
The smaller man nods and takes a sharp inspiration. Eren feels the shift of atmosphere before his friend has even spoken.   
  
"I hope... I hope that living here will be good. For you."  
  
The moment feels heavy and sentimental, and that is the last thing Eren wants it to be, so he drops his bag on his bed and turns around to Armin with a grin. "Will you show me the bathroom? I want to shower and go to bed early."  
  
The blond is not dupe, and Eren knows it, and that is honestly the only thing that scares him about this move, but for the moment, Armin drops the subject and shows him to the shower.   
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
Two weeks after his move, Armin finally gets a day-off — more of a night-off, really, as he works in the research facility from 8 p.m to 6 a.m — and suggests sight-seeing to Eren.   
  
The vampire does not oppose to it, the most he has done in these two weeks is painting and watching TV at night, tossing and turning during the day.   
  
They see the Berliner Dom and Checkpoint Charlie before finding a restaurant not too pricey and sitting down at a table by a window. As Armin looks at the menu, Eren watches passerby hurrying on the over side of the glass, clad in light jackets as the warm temperatures of autumn drop at sundown. It is at time like this that he feels significantly not human; not when he sips on blood, nor when he feels his skin burn under a ray of sunshine. It is when he notices the pace at which humans live, hectic and fast, trying to win against the cruel passage of time. Eren does not have anywhere to go, no goal to reach, no deadline to motivate any desire. Eren knows no limitation. He has been doing the same things for centuries now, hopping from a continent to another, living slow and purposeless.   
  
He does not remember when it became like this.   
  
The vampire sighs, which earns him Armin's worried look. Thankfully, the blond does not say anything about it and prefers asking, "Is it your first time in Germany?"  
  
Then the blond does his hardest to avoids his eyes and pretends to find great interest in the other patrons.   
  
Eren sighs. He knows that Armin took two weeks to work the courage to ask him this question and is now waiting to hear a non-committal grunt for answer.   
  
Eren never talks to him about his past — he does not mention it to anyone, actually — and knows that it bugs the blond. The brunet saw Armin be understanding at first, nodding calmly when Eren brushed him off, but frustration slowly worked his way on the blond's face, frowning whenever the vampire would shrug at an inquiry about his life before — _before Armin_. Eren thought that Armin had finally gave up on worming his story out of him, until _now_.   
  
And maybe, Eren understands a little this time; Armin has an end, a time set for him, and he probably wants to make the most out of it. Having such a fickle friendship with him must be exhausting and awfully time-consuming.   
  
So, he answers truthfully. Keeping everything to himself does not push the memories away, he might as well share them.   
  
"I was born here."  
  
Armin jerks at his sentence and whips his head around to meet the older man's gaze with astonished eyes.   
  
For a moment, they stay silent, and the human does not try for another question, probably worried that he would break whatever pushed Eren to confide. The vampire feels guilt twinge at his chest, alarmed that his own brooding other past memories has hurt his relationship with Arlert.   
  
Armin has trusted him with everything about him after all. He has no reason to refuse this any longer.  
  
"My parents were simple farmers. I don't actually remembers their faces, but I know that my mother was beautiful."  
  
The blond leans in, hands hidden in his lap. When he meets Eren's eyes, he looks down.   
  
"How old are you?"  
  
Eren takes a second to think.   
  
"Nearly five hundred years old, I think."  
  
He sees shock bloom on Armin's face in waves — first the eyes, wide and glinting, then the eyebrows, furrowed and tense, and finally the mouth, opening into a gasp.  
  
"I... I though you were... That you weren't so..."  
  
"Old?" The vampire supplies and Armin just stares. "You learn to blend in with people. To sound like your... Physical age. It's even easier now, after the Revelation."  
  
The blond leans back into his chair.   
  
"Wow," he huffs a laugh of disbelief, "I can't believe it. We've been friends for so long and I never though you would be... more than a century old actually."  
  
Eren simply shrugs.   
  
"It doesn't change anything. You're still my friend. We get along well and share similar taste of series. I've lived a long time but it doesn't change anything, that doesn't make me a wise old man suddenly."  
  
The blond gulps, but does not have the time to had anything, the waitress is here and tending to their orders. When Eren only asks for a glass of water he will not be drinking, he gets a knowing smirk and a wink from the young woman — he will probably find a napkin and a number on the table at the end of Armin's meal.   
  
Humans are constant for one thing: their weird fascination for vampires that only grew as they became real.   
  
Armin does not say anything after that, Eren lets him digest the information and see what he wants to do with it — scream at Eren for keeping it from him for so long or silently accept it.   
  
When the blond finally gets his salad, he looks up straight to the vampire's eyes.  
  
"Can I ask you other things?"  
  
Eren is surprised and stops playing with the condensation on his glass.   
  
"Sure."  
  
Armin nods and stabs a bit of his lettuce on his fork while gathering his thoughts.   
  
"How was the Revelation?"  
  
Eren winces at the memory, a time of blood and chaos that would be appealing to any vampire if they were not the major victims of the era.   
  
"Awful. No one talks about how awful it was," he reveals. "The 21th century was a curse from the beginning, with the invention of smartphones. Everybody could take pictures of whatever they wanted and show it to the world in seconds; a lot of vampires were caught on camera because of that. And when I say a lot, I mean that it became totally uncontrollable for the Vampire Organization and we couldn't really hide anymore. So, in 2020, we had our universal Coming Out. A really messy one."  
  
Armin chews thoughtfully. "Yeah, I read that there was a sudden rise of murders and aggression right after the delivery of the news."  
  
"Yes. When people understood that it wasn't some sick jock, they begun to murder. If anyone looked remotely weird, it was a public execution by stake."  
  
The blond frowns and puts his fork down, not even halfway through his dish.   
  
"It took some times for things to calm down. When it did, people decided that they should take a census of all vampires and muzzle them."  
  
"Literally muzzle them?"  
  
"Absolutely. ‘No bite, no murder’."  
  
The human takes a second to process the information.  
  
"That's awful."  
  
"We were considered less than human at the time," Eren simply states.   
  
Armin lowers his gaze to the tabletop.  
  
"Where you...?"  
  
"Muzzled? No. I didn't look like a vampire cliché. And I run fairly fast. I actually wasn't registered as a vampire before the day I met you."  
  
At that, the blond lifts his eyes to him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The night were I saved you from the jackass that was trying to bleed you dry and brought him to the police station was the night I got officially registered as a vampire."  
  
"Oh... I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. That's not a bad thing anymore. The Revelation was more than a century ago, times have changed. And I like my real name better than the fabricated identity I used at the time."  
  
Armin's expression is unreadable, except for the dim light of guilt that swims in the ocean of his irises.   
  
Eren wants to explain that being registered is not such a big deal, and that making it easier for people to find him gave him hope at one point, but if he tells him that, he would have to narrate the tales of his existence and he is not yet ready to strip his heart totally bare to the human.   
  
The vampire sighs.  
  
"Really, Armin, it was bound to happen at one point or another. And I got to save your ass and meet you. I don't think it's such a bad deal, honestly."  
  
The blond frowns slightly, but takes his fork back.   
  
"And it granted me access to blood banks, which is so much more convenient than trying to find a willing partner."  
  
At that, he nods around a mouthful of green and red — Eren is not quite sure of what he is eating.  
  
"Did you..." Armin begins but stops suddenly. He takes a breath. "Have you ever had any... Hum, partner? I mean, not only someone that gives his blood to you. I did that, at one point, but... Someone more..."  
  
Eren should have expected this question from the moment he gave a bit of information on his past. Maybe, if he did, he would have been able to push down the memories of silky black hair on his pillow and avid mouth on his own, eating at his heart from another era. His throat feels tight suddenly and a tension buzzes in his mouth, fangs menacing to dive into his lower lip if he does not wipe the recollection away.   
  
"Yes," he answers, and the sharpness in his tone must express enough of his torment because Armin does not press him for any detail.   
  
They fell into silence, and alabaster skin slides under Eren's fingertips, skin soft and tender on his own. The vampire sees eyes that become gray under the glow of candles and a smile, but he cannot grasp it, details always standing on the edge of his memories, but not quite there, not quite reachable for the brunet to fully remember the face that he loved — loves — so much.   
  
He tries to breath through his nose to disperse the clear mercury that dances in front of him, but it is a mistake. His throat is ablaze with lust and the smell of humans — so many humans — around him has his thirst clawing at his trachea. He feels his fangs poking out of his gums despite his best efforts at keeping them under control.   
  
Eren covers his mouth with a hand.   
  
"Armin, we gotta get out of here," he hisses.  
  
The blond's eyes are wide, but he understands what is happening in a second. He scrambles to his feet and nearly runs to pay for his diner. Waiting for a taxi is excruciating; Eren stands on the sidewalk with his eyes closed, pretending that he cannot hear the heartbeats of the crowd, not breathing nor moving.   
  
Armin is standing close, warmth seeping into the material of his long-sleeved shirt and Eren cannot help remembering the taste of his blood on his tongue. The vampire knows it is refreshing and cool, similar to morning dew at the beginning of the year; it has been a comforting aroma for the past ten years, the assurance that Eren would not starve, or ripe open a poor unlucky stranger and end up in the claws of the CVR. Now, it is a terrible torture; everything feels out of control and every nerves of his body are about to snap from the tension.   
  
There is a reason why he never mentions Levi to anyone. He brings back too many desires in the flood of memories. Lust, he can deal with his hands. But bloodlust? That is another big issue.   
  
When the taxi comes to a stop in front of them, Eren almost sighs from relief; but right before relaxing his lungs, he remembers that he should not breath in Armin's proximity until they get home.   
  
The ride is going to be long, Eren knows it, it will last almost an hour, more if the driver tries to rip them off, and Armin is here, close and probably willing to feed him if he asked.   
  
Keeping himself from getting swayed is hard and laborious, but the brunet knows biting Armin now would mean bleeding him dry.   
  
And Eren likes to keep his friends alive.   
  
"Hum, Eren... I could..."  
  
"Don't say another fucking word," he manages to say through gritted teeth.  
  
The brunet feels vaguely apologetic — in a corner of his mind, behind the screams of his consciousness asking him to do something — for talking to Armin so harshly, but his friend's self-preservation instincts do not tend to kick in when Eren needs them to. Armin feels safe with him, and he probably should not. Not now, at least.   
  
Thankfully, Armin heeds his advice and do not say another word for the remaining of the journey.   
  
The car stops in front of their apartment building and Eren tears through the entrance doors. He does not wait for the blond, nor does he hesitate in front of the elevator and opens the door to the stairwell. Sure, he has fifty floors to climb, but he also has vampire legs and a thirst to quench quickly.   
  
Eren almost flies. It has been a while since he last put so much effort into something; he does not hunt anymore, does not do anything physical but is not in any way out of shape. It does not even takes him minutes to stand in front of his door.   
  
He steps inside, breath still held and makes a b-line to the fridge. Blood pouches are stacked in the vegetable compartment and the vampire reaches for a bag of A+ because it is his favorite and his favorite seems like a good idea when his mind gravitates around Levi. He does not heat it up and chugs it without a second thought.   
  
The fire in his throat dies down to a scratch and Eren throws the plastic in the bin. He should probably swallow another bag, but then he would not have enough sustenance until his next supply.   
  
He sighs heavily and grabs another pouch. He lives with a human and cannot risk it.   
  
He is carefully sipping on his second — cold — blood bag when he hears the elevator and Armin's steps in the hallway.   
  
"Eren?" he calls from the entrance.  
  
"Kitchen."  
  
Armin joins him once he has shed his jacket and his shoes.   
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Better."  
  
There is a tense moment of silence and Eren can hear the neighbor's snores if he tries. The vampire ends up sucking on nothing, and the slurping sounds are almost better than the awkward quiet between them.   
  
He stops because it is probably getting on Armin's nerves and he does not want to push his friend further.   
  
"I'm sorry," he says. "I kinda ruined the night."  
  
"It's fine." He takes a breath. "Can you tell me what happened?"  
  
Eren worries his lower lip, wonders if he can talk about it now that he is sated and full.   
  
He does not want to take any risk.  
  
"I... I remembered things."  
  
He knows it is lame, but he really does not want to go into details. Not now. Maybe not ever.   
  
"I'm sorry, can we not talk about it?" He does not look at Armin and keeps his eyes glued to the floor. "I'm sorry," he repeats weakly.   
  
The blond inspires three times before giving him an answer.   
  
"Okay."  
  
Eren feels a familiar emptiness filling his chest. It wants to confide in Armin, tell him everything that has felt wrong for centuries, the loneliness he cursed himself with, his idiocy. But he does not. He stays silent and passes by his friend to his room, head lowered.   
  
He stops when Armin clears his throat, hand on the handle.   
  
"Thanks for sharing with me, Eren."  
  
Eren does not sleep a lot more than usual this morning, but his heart feels warmer, caged behind his ribs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked the first part of this chapter, Eren is lovely to write when depressed. 
> 
> I still have a lot of fun with this story, even if I don't quite spend as much time as I would like on it. (I also have a little Drarry trying to come alive and it's exhausting).
> 
> Comments are appreciated and motivating! ♥ Thank you for reading.


	3. Le Misérable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating is here for a reason *winkwonk*

Eren wakes up melancholic and does not go out to greet Armin before he leaves for work. Instead, he sits on his painting tool, in front of an empty canvas and thinks.   
  
He knows what he wants to draw, and when he closes his eyes, he can almost see it, but when he seizes a brush and dip it in red, pink, yellow, green, gray, everything disappears into thin air. Sometimes he wonders if everything is not an illusion, something to justify his loneliness and make him bear the dullness of his existence.  
  
The vampire sighs and stands up to draw the curtains open. The night greets him with flickering lights and warm darkness. Eren pushes his hand on the glass and the surface is smooth and warm. Autumns used to be colder, but humans — and supernatural creatures, he cannot only blame poor defenseless humans for that — fucked the Earth up and the temperatures are not what they should be, seasons do not exactly begin when they should.   
  
This autumn feels like summer. Maybe it is what dampens his already saturnine mood. Vampires tend to lurk in the shadows and hide in dark and cold castles for a reason; heat is unbearable, AC on or not.   
  
Eren turns around and drops down on his bed, face buried in his pillow. In the movement, he knocks down one of his painting, but the brunet does not even care; it probably is the umpteenth representation of what he ever draws: a back. A beautiful, strong, unforgettable back. Eren does not know if it is because Levi's back is the very last think he ever saw of him, but it is the last thing he can still remember and paint. His face seems like a blur, detailed when he does not realize it and dissipating like fog whenever he tries to grasp it.   
  
The memories are ever-present, and never lost any color, they are just blurry at the best of times; Eren can remember the warmth of Levi’s touch, the press of his body and the burn of his fangs sinking in his throat. He shudders as goosebumps spread on the soft skin of his neck and lets his fingers brush his pulse, a fleeting touch at first, before pushing his nails in the flesh and feeling his blood thrum under his fingertips.   
  
He exhales shakily as the sting gives more potency to Levi; he _feels_ his hands slowly caressing his shoulders, unfurling the tension as he goes, and the stiffness of his body, pressed against his back. Levi is all hard muscles and sharp edges, powerful and commanding as he covers Eren, pining him to the mattress.   
  
Eren waits for his lover to finish feeding before turning his head away from his pillow, and laughs when the raven laps at his neck for the last drops of blood. He lets Levi lick his skin clean, and then kiss it with lazy presses of his mouth. His breath is moist and deliciously tangy with the scent of his own blood; Eren lifts his head to meet his lips and whines when he can only reach the corner of his mouth, lifted in a wickedly charming grin.   
  
Levi rises and sits back on his haunches, straddling his upper thighs, pushing a hand against Eren’s spine, and rolls his hips. The brunet inhales sharply and moans at the friction. He pushes back to meet the rigidity of the vampire’s cock and his hands find the solid warmth of his thighs; they sink into the flesh as the raven bears down on him a second time. He is barely aware of a hand entangled in his hair before Levi pulls gently at it and presses his mouth in the shell of his ear.   
  
“Turn around.”  
  
Eren does not hesitate more than a second before twisting and turning, immediately pulling his lover against him to find his lips, eager to please and voracious. Levi’s tongue tastes of himself and he moans at the sweetness of his blood and the feeling of having him so close. His hands travel the planes of his clothed chest, before sleeping under the vampire’s coat and pushing it over his shoulders. Levi sends it flying through the room and Eren catches a glimpse of gray before a roll of pressure on his groin has him arching back against his pillow.   
  
With the efficiency of a vampire used to manhandle him, Levi strips Eren of the sweats he has been lounging around in – they end up at the foot of the bed. He his barely aware that he is bleeding before the raven’s tongue swipes at his lower lip and he feels the sting of it; his fangs pierce the tender skin. But then, Levi takes him in hand and gives him an excruciatingly slow stroke and the world feels more blurry than he has ever been.   
  
“Fuck, Levi!”  
  
Levi breathes a laugh in the hollow of his neck and Eren pants in his ear, fingers lacing in the long strands of ebony silk that tickle his chin. He drops a kiss on the raven’s temple and tries to slip his other hand in his breeches to reciprocate the delicious ministrations. The vampire catches his hand before he has a two knuckles in and presses his wrist in the mattress.   
  
“No. Only you tonight, let me take care of you.”  
  
The brunet whines and wriggles a little to see if he can change his mind and share a bit of the pleasure he is feeling. The raven picks up the pace in answer. Eren grunts and pushes in Levi hand for more friction, openly selfish now that his lover allowed it. The vampire’s hand is warm around his shaft and guides Eren closer to his orgasm with the confidence of a long-time lover. His fingers know what type of pressure to apply and the puffs of hot breath on the sensitive skin of his throat raise goosebumps all over his body.  
  
Warmth glides on Eren’s bones, and gathers at the small of his back, and he fights to get Levi closer, always closer, to feel all the length of his body and the muscles rippling under his hands. He needs him all against him, warmer, more tangible, and so he untangles his fingers from his hair and fists at his shirt, tugging in the hope to ripe it off, panting with a mix of exertion and pleasure.   
  
And then, then, Levi bites, angry fangs tearing at his throat and everything comes and goes in a second; his orgasm cuts through him and the pleasure is a wave of hot red engulfing him in heat. His thighs quiver under the intensity and his lungs feel too small to breathe.   
  
He is left sated and breathless; but Levi is gone, and barely remembered, and his t-shirt and hand are stained with carmine cum. He takes his first decent gulp of air and a weight settle on his stomach; he recognizes loneliness at the bitter taste she leaves on his palate. The after glow is not enough to keep it at bay.   
  
Eren sighs and sits up to asses the damage, the side of his throat burns and he discovers without surprise that his nails bit ferociously at the skin there. His pillow is streaked with vermilion and his shirt is on his way to be ruined if he does not take action immediately.   
  
He stands up, slips out of his shirt and takes his pillowcase to the bathroom, naked.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
He spends the night turning in circles, wound up despite the pleasant release, and as usual whenever it happens, he feels hollow and alone. The apartment seems stuffy and Eren craves a breathe of fresh air, but he is surrounded by skyscrapers and the pitiful park on the other end of the neighborhood is damp and smells of carbon monoxide. And he does not want to step outside; he just wishes Levi could be at his side, distracting him with his silence and warm skin. All the walks in the world cannot compete with that.   
  
When Armin gets home, he finds Eren perched on a bar-stool at the kitchen island, ranking thawing peas by order of size.   
  
Eren barely glances in his direction, and after a beat of incredulous silence, Armin says, “I think you should meet my co-workers soon.”  
  
The vampire hums noncommittally.   
  
“How about tonight? It’s Saturday, they should be free.”  
  
He shrugs and pushes a particularly round pea in line.   
  
“That’s decided then.” After a moment, he seems to remember that he is still clutching his briefcase and props it on the second bar stool. “Have you eaten, yet?”  
  
Eren lines three new peas before answering.   
  
“No. Not tonight. I should pace myself, I drank too much the other night.”  
  
“Aren’t you hungry?”  
  
Once again, a shrug is the only answer the brunet is willing to give. After a time and a sigh from Armin, the blond understands that he will not have a decent conversation partner tonight and leaves the living room with a muttered “I’m turning in early, see ya tonight.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The bar is crowded and the air feels heavy on his tongue; smells of exhaust, human activity and damp cotton mingle in the room and chatter drowns out Eren’s darkest thoughts. His belly is full of microwave-warmed blood, his closest friend is pulling him through a throng of loud persons, and the lack of silence is not as annoying as he was expecting. Maybe getting out of the house was a good idea.   
  
Armin’s rain-dampened hair sways as he ducks to avoid a young woman carrying a tray of pints and the vampire follows with a smooth movement of the shoulders. His nose picks up the peculiar sweetness of her scent but he does not dwell on it; he is not hungry and is old enough to resist to gluttony.   
  
“Armin!”  
  
Eren hears the voice thanks to his acute hearing, tugs at his friend’s jacket and beckons him with a move of the head. He listens intently, hears the voice again, and leads the blond to a side of the room. As soon as Armin spots the person energetically waving at them, he quickens his pace and reaches them in a few steps.   
  
“Hanji! How are you?”  
  
Armin’s superior is a person of unknown gender, svelte, who seems to favors comfort to looks, if the thick unfashionable glasses and the quickly-pulled ponytail are anything to go by.   
  
“Good!” The stranger’s gaze cuts to the vampire, smile big and full of teeth. “Better when you’ll have introduced me to your friend. You’re Eren, right?”  
  
The vampire nods and takes the offered hand, finds it smooth and chilled. Too cold for a human. His eyes snap to his new acquaintance’s face and his nostrils’ flare instinctively. The scent is lost in the mess of smell of the room, but he finds it anyway, feeble and clean, the scent of moss, forest and pines. It screams werewolf at him, and Eren almost asks if they are one when he picks up something else; undertones of something bright and warm, familiar and sunny; it whispers _vampire_ in his ear.   
  
Eren leans in, looks in the profoundly amused gaze of Hanji and tries to make sense of what he is smelling, because what his brain is telling him seems impossible.   
  
“What are you?” he finally blurts out when his mind has circled around the same thought for the third time in a row.   
  
Hanji smiles wolfishly at him.   
  
“I knew you would feel it. Come on, sit down, let’s talk.”  
  
Eren looks at Armin for a clue, and the blond ducks his head to hide his grin before sliding on the bench facing Hanji. The vampire follows and only then notices the human – yes, smells faintly of sweat and softener and sweet, sweet blood, only human – seated next to his new acquaintance. He nods a hello in his direction, and the stranger reciprocate with a smile.   
  
“Let me introduce you to Moblit, my assistant and partner.”  
  
Moblit extends a hand with a “Nice to meet you,” and Eren mumbles an equivalent as he shakes it.   
  
Armin is only getting comfortable into his seat – peeling his jacket off – when a man stops at their table, white tank top despite the season, arms akimbo and crooked grin. Eren turns to him with expectant eyes and the stranger’s gaze lingers on him before turning to Hanji.   
  
“Well, well, will you look at that… Our party is growing exponentially. And with a vampire! I have to congratulate you on the diversity of your guests Hanji. I’m sure Erwin would be pleased.”  
  
A quick sniff informs Eren that he is facing a werewolf; forest and musky sap under layers of perfume, shampoo, conditioner, bleach, fabric softener and Granny Smith scented soap. It stings at his nose a little bit, and he wrinkles it in distaste – how could he bear to live with this? Hanji looks equally pleased to be in the vicinity of the blond.   
  
They clear their throat and take a small breath.   
  
“Eren, Armin, this is Jean. We’re in the same pack and Jean is...”  
  
“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” drawls the man before they have a chance to finish their sentence.   
  
He slides in the space next to Eren and fits himself against his side, naked shoulder pressing into his shirt-clad one and mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.   
  
“Eren… How do you write that?”  
  
Before the vampire has an answer to give, Hanji asks, “Where is Erwin, Jean?”  
  
The man glances their way for a split second before flashing pointy eyeteeth at Eren. He makes a show of tugging at a strand of bleached blond hair to make it spike at the top of his head and scratching his jaw and the faint stubble that is growing here, exposing the smooth skin of his throat in the process.   
  
“The Big Bad Wolf is on pack duty tonight. So he sent me there to entertain you with my natural charm.”  
  
Ask to the right crowd, and Jean would be considered fairly charming. He is handsome, with nice, even features, maybe a face a tad too long, but with a strong angular jaw that makes up for it. He is laying on the flirting pretty thick, but some could find it appealingly amusing. But he is not in anyways near Eren’s preference; too vain in his cloud of products, bleached hair and designer clothes – no one wears tank tops that expensive. And werewolves, he heard, are terrible lovers for vampire; impossible to drink from and with the tendency to leave their scent all over you for a long, long time.   
  
Hanji sighs and Eren turns his attention to them.   
  
“I wanted you to meet Erwin tonight, our pack leader. He is also the one largely financing our...” Hanji leans over the table and finishes in a whisper, “project.”  
  
“And,” Moblit begins for the first time of the evening, “we thought, maybe, the pack could be a community to you. A place to be and find friends. It’s not only werewolves there. I am, as a human, considered a legitimate member of the pack.”  
  
Eren steals a look to Armin and sees him wringing out his hands out of nervousness. He wonders how worried his friend must have been to have talked of his unmistakable loneliness to new acquaintances. Because, yes, Eren is lonely, has been for a long time now, but mingling with furry strangers will not ease his pain.   
  
“Thanks. But I’m not much of a social butterfly.”  
  
“Oh, come on!” gasps Jean near the vampire’s ear, making him wince. “We’re nice people. You should at least get to know some of us before giving an answer."  
  
“Jean...” tries Moblit.  
  
“Listen, Jean,” Eren says, “sure, I can think about it.” Saying it does not mean he will, but if the issue can be left alone at the moment, at least until he makes it home unscathed, he is ready to do anything. “But I’m not interested in a tryst with you, so you can lay off on the flirting.”  
  
The werewolf stills, the time of a breathe, before shrugging and easing away from Eren and collapsing against the backrest.   
  
“Shame. It has been said that I’m a pretty awesome lay.”  
  
Eren scoffs at the assurance.   
  
“By whom? People can find you under all the layers of products?”  
  
Jean throws his head back and looks at Eren with scrutinizing half-lidded eyes.   
  
“Well, I have to take care of my skin, with all the sun I’m getting,” he sneers.   
  
Eren ponders for a second if it is worth it to open an argument. He is about to answer when he feels Armin tugging at his sleeve and turns to the blond. His friend is not looking at him, instead he is facing Hanji and says, “So, Eren has been my taste tester for the past five years.”  
  
Hanji throws themselves in the change of topic wholeheartedly and Jean only snorts before crossing his arms and listening.   
  
“How lucky! This was a the very beginning of your research, right? How brave of you Eren! Not all vampires would trust anyone to feed them something so strange. How long have you two known each others? Never mind that, Armin, how did you get into…” Hanji takes a breathe to whisper, “synthesizing blood?”  
  
Armin opens his mouth to answer.  
  
“Wait, no, let’s _not_ talk about our job tonight, we’re here to relax and drink. How old are you, Eren? Where you alive when they tried to distribute the New Blood? Did you try some? I heard that it hurt so much, a lot of vampires walked into daylight to end their suffering. That sounds painful… I tried sunlight once after the whole change thing, and dammit, it _burned_ and I stayed in bed for a week. Have you ever tried sunlight since your change? Lots of people think that living only at night is uncomfortable, but I really like it. I mean, not that I ever spent a lot of time in the sun, right, Moblit?”  
  
Moblit, surprisingly, finds the time to get a word in.   
  
“That’s right,” he agrees with the beginning of a smile.   
  
Hanji inhales to launch their next attack.  
  
“What are you?” Eren pushes out right before they go back on track.   
  
The question seems to give them pause and Hanji actually takes a second to consider their answer. They lean over the table, Moblit brushing their shoulder in an absent-minded show of affection.  
  
“I’m both a werewolf and a vampire.”  
  
Eren swallows, and despite the rumble of the crowd, he thinks Hanji hears it.   
  
“Surprising, isn’t it?”  
  
“How is it possible? You… How…?” Eren trails off, incapable of finding the end of his sentence. He tries to get closer, leaning over the table and sniffs once more. The smells of sunshine and earth are there, almost in equal potency. “I’ve never met one. I’ve never even knew of it. I thought… I thought werewolves and vampires were incompatible.”  
  
Hanji smiles a wicked smile.   
  
“Well… Not exactly incompatible. The ritual of the change is a little more complex, and the blood do taste awful for the Creator, but it’s not impossible with a bit of wit and motivation.”  
  
A bit of wit and motivation, said for such an intimate act as a Creation.   
  
Eren takes a second to take it in and feels Jean shifting beside him. From the corner of his eyes, he sees him mouthing something at Armin, over the vampire’s head, before the werewolf is standing up and striding across the room without another word.   
  
The brunet watches him disappear before turning back to Hanji.   
  
“I don’t know any vampire that would agree with this folly. The change is… not ever done lightly.”  
  
“Oh, I’m aware. I had to nag my Creator for ten years before he even agreed to let me ask him questions about vampires. But when he changed me, he was in my debt. And he vehemently refuses to tell me about the ritual in itself, so don’t worry about proper… Er, vampire traditions?”  
  
Eren nods and begins to answer when Armin presses a hand at his shoulder and asks him to move so he can get out.   
  
“I’m going to get some drinks. Moblit, you want a refill?”  
  
The man shakes his head, and Armin is gone before Eren can ask for a glass of water to cool his hands – it is a weird habit he has taken to whenever he is out with his alive friends. He hopes Armin will remember it; his fingers feel stiff, he is jittery without the cool pressure of smooth glass against his skin.   
  
When they see that Eren is not about to say anything, Hanji goes back to the topic at hand.   
  
“My Creator is quite old and made sure that I knew everything I had to know before becoming a vampire… Except how to pass on the gift… I think he even cast a spell to keep me from asking the question to anyone.”  
  
Eren frowns.  
  
“He practices witchcraft?”  
  
Hanji has a smug grin.   
  
“He is the best witch of the country if you’re up to no good. And probably the best witch in the continent if you’re up to… anything else. Call me if you have trouble of any sort, I’ll give you his contact details. He is good at everything.”  
  
Eren nods but does not answer with anything. He usually avoid meeting other vampires; while quite not as territorial as werewolves, the vampire etiquette is so heavy that trying to make friend with anyone is an incredible hassle. Well, at least was, it is not like Eren has been very social for the past century. He does not want to give one too many bow to the witch and carelessly piss him off; he likes his fangs where they are, not totally cursed off by an angry warlock.   
  
The hybrid licks the corner of their mouth and Eren sees the shadow of a pointy fang. He crosses his arms and leans over the table.  
  
“So, how are you different from me then? I guess that you only drink blood. You can’t go out? In the sun? At all?”  
  
They shake their head and press closer to Moblit.   
  
“I have to drink more blood than your average vampire and, no, I can’t go out in the sun. I still change on nights of full moon.” They grin and give a little shrug. “But I heal faster than ever, and, from recent experimentation, I am faster than most vampires. And well… I have yet to see it, but we’re not expecting me to age.”  
  
Eren wets his lips.   
  
“Is that why you did it? For… Eternal youth?”  
  
Hanji laughs heartily at that and waves a hand in the general direction of the vampire.   
  
“Well, I certainly like the idea that I will live long enough to see my research come to fruition. But I mostly did it to help with the research… I never expected anyone to be willing to try something for me after the fiasco of New Blood. So I took matter into my own hands.”  
  
Eren is silent for a little while.   
  
He breaks it with, “You’re crazy.”  
  
Hanji smile widens.  
  
“Well, you’re not the first one to say it. I’m dedicated to science. And I will have a long life full of it. I wouldn’t change it if I could. Ever.”  
  
The easiness of her answer makes something dark clenches in Eren’s gut. Would he change something if he could? Vampirism had never been a choice that he had made willingly –it simply had seemed better than death– but being with Levi had been. He had wanted to be with him. He still wants to be with him. Even if it has been centuries since…   
  
Eren clears his throat and finds that it seems weirdly difficult to do so. He knows that he should never be thinking of Levi in public, but sometimes… The vampire is an unshakable weight on his mind.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs difficultly. “I have to go. Please, tell Armin that I’m leaving.”  
  
“You’re alright?” asks Moblit with concern.   
  
He nods stiffly and stands up before anyone can try to stop him.   
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Armin gets out of the shower the following morning after a hard night at work, eyes heavy with fatigue and shoulders slumped.   
  
“Good night,” he mumbles in passing through Eren’s open door as he heads for his room.   
  
“Wait,” Eren says, leaping to his feet to meet his friend in the hallway. “I wanted to apologize for…” _leaving you alone last night_ never gets out. Instead the vampire takes a breath, frowns and asks, “Did you change your soap?”  
  
The blond blinks owlishly at him.   
  
“No, it’s the same as usual.” After a pause, “And don’t worry about last night, I had a good time. I wish you had too, but… But I know you’re not comfortable with strangers. It’s okay, thanks for meeting them.”  
  
He pats Eren on the shoulder and turns to go, but the vampire takes a step forward and crowds him.   
  
“Did you change your shampoo then? Something? Anything?”  
  
Armin looks up at him with surprise, but shakes his head.   
  
“It’s weird… You smell… _Weird_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eren is a delight to write. I'm pretty sure he listens to Cigarettes after Sex all the time and feels broody and incorporeal. 
> 
> Please, if I used anything but they for Hanji, tell me so! I write a few other fanfictions on the side, and I _never_ use the same pronouns twice (for very legitimate reasons, thank you very much). 
> 
> As usual, comments help me a lot, and thank you for reading and enjoying! ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always nice to find in my inbox, they make my fingers eager to write. And it's always lovely to talk with people. 
> 
> Please, send me a message on [Tumblr](https://zoupia.tumblr.com/), we can talk about how Captive Prince made me cry and find which Queen's song is the best (all of them).


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